


Making It Right

by anonomnom



Series: Getting It Right [2]
Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, M/M, Wedding Planning, the briefest mention of suicide/self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 22:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9789737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonomnom/pseuds/anonomnom
Summary: Aaron’s never been one for details, and it’s hardly a surprise to Robert that wedding planning doesn’t get his motor running; tear-your-hair-out frustrating as that is. But the thing about Aaron, is that he’s better with the bigger things, and Robert wouldn’t trust them with anyone else.Or alternatively, very, very loosely: ‘5(ish) times Aaron had to be pushed into making wedding decisions, and the 1 time he didn’t’.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my previous fic When It’s Right, but it could easily be read as a stand-alone.
> 
> I wrote small parts of it alongside WIR, and most of it was written in the summer and therefore before SSW, but I struggle a lot with writer’s block and it was like wading through glue finishing some of these scenes – and then I ended up cutting the worst one after I finished it, 2,000 words later!   
> So now this is basically so AU it’s redundant, but I managed to finish it so I wanted to post it.  
> (I still think it’s sort of how things could’ve gone if they got married years later.)  
> I hope you enjoy parts of it anyway!
> 
> Something else to note: I don’t think we have a name for Hotel 1, and since Hotel 2 will always be Barden Park to me, I’ve taken liberties and used Oakwood for Hotel 1 – hope it’s not too confusing for people!  
> (I also have no idea where Jack and Sarah got married – more liberties, all the liberties!)

If Robert’s being honest, there’s a small, _tiny_ part of him that wanted to do the old, traditional way of proposing.

“Miss Tanya Black,”

Book a fancy restaurant, have candle light and soft music, get down on his knee in front of everyone so they could see what he was doing, what Aaron _meant_ to him.

“Will you do me the great honour of becoming my wife?”

He’d done that for Chrissie, but that was more about doing what was expected of him. It meant a world of difference with Aaron; he’d do it because he _could_.

“Of course!”

Aaron would have killed him though. Definitely wouldn’t have said yes.

The whole room claps as the young woman flings herself down into her boyfriend’s arms.

“Jesus.” Except Aaron and himself. Robert looks to him sat that other side of their small table to see his head turned away from the scene and a grimace on his face as he reaches for his beer. “Why do people embarrass themselves like that?”

Robert looks back at the couple still on the floor, turning his own nose up.

“I don’t think they find it embarrassing.”

“Well I’ve got news for them,” Robert smiles at him as he trails off, before glancing around at the happy spectators and giving them a distasteful look.

It’s a very, _very_ , small part of him.

The vast majority hates the idea, is derisive about the people who do it, and all of him, every fibre and atom, wouldn’t change how it happened for the world. They never speak of it, and Robert will never say it, but he loves that moment almost as much as he loves Aaron.

It’s funny how he spent years chasing perfection, and it always finds him in the strangest of places.

“I would’ve killed you if you did that to me.” Robert smiles at him, taking a sip of his wine and finally tuning the rest of the room out for good.

“I may not be the smartest when it comes to you, but I’m not that stupid. I’d’ve never done that.”

Aaron nods and goes back to finishing his meal, his band of diamonds glistening in the soft lighting as he picks up his fork.

Robert loves him.

He feels lucky he’s even here tonight, shirt and tie and everything. They don’t do things like this often, and there’s a fine line between spoiling Aaron like he secretly likes and Aaron’s definition of ‘fuss’ that he so hates.

Tonight seems to fit the criteria, and Robert’s tempted to test its limits by taking Aaron’s hand, just for a moment.

He doesn’t, lets him eat, but he might try later.

“So, whilst weddings are the topic of conversation,” Aaron looks at him with purpose, cheeks round with fullness; Robert just smirks. “Feel like maybe setting a date? Or a ballpark at least?”

Aaron just looks at him as he chews slowly, face unreadable. Robert waits, continues with his own meal but keeps his eyes on his fiancé.

Aaron swallows and still waits a beat before saying anything.

“No?” He goes back to eating.

“Well, like I’ve said, you don’t have to marry me, but if you do want to-”

“Of course I want to,” he grumbles with his mouth full. “I wouldn’t have said ‘yes’ if I didn’t.”

“Then,” Robert continues. “I was thinking sometime this year would be nice.”

“What’s the rush?” Aaron frowns.

“There isn’t one. But we’ve been together a while, engaged a few months; not sure there’s any point is waiting, is there?”

Aaron shrugs and takes another bite.

Robert waits for something else, but it doesn’t come so he prods again.

“Do you have a preference? At all? Any special dates or a season you’d like-”

“Really?” Aaron interrupts, looking at him like he’s lost it. “I don’t care. Whenever.”

“Tomorrow, then?” Robert teases to cover the little itch Aaron’s uncaring produces in him. “Meet you in the church at 12? I’m sure Harriet’s not got anything else on.”

Aaron rolls his eyes and pulls a sarcastic smile, but that’s all Robert gets.

He sighs a little but isn’t too put out, it’s not like he’s put a ton of thought into it, just snippets here and there, a mental run through once or twice; at different times, in different places.

Nothing needs to be decided yet. Robert doesn’t want to be one of those forever-engaged couples – and wants to marry Aaron even more – but as long as Aaron’s always beside him, nothing ever needs to be decided. But it would be nice.

“End of August might be good. If you fancy it.” Robert’s eyes snap to Aaron, but he’s looking at his plate and for all the world looks like he hasn’t said a thing.

Robert beams at him, heart fluttering a little, and as he stretches his leg out to brush it against Aaron’s, Aaron’s already doing the same, so they tangle and rest against each other.

“Sounds perfect.”

***

As soon as a date’s set – well, a timeframe at least – Vic is all over it.

She asks question after question about what else they’ve got planned, and Robert’s inability to answer and Aaron’s shying away doesn’t dampen her spirits in the least. Robert wonders what she was like at her own wedding; Aaron says she wasn’t nearly this excited.

Aaron doesn’t really like the attention but Robert thinks it’s sweet, and it feel good to see someone as excited about it as he is; it’s good to see his family happy for him, proud of him.

But before they can set an actual date, they need to decide on a venue.

“I only have one request,” he says across the cabin, over piles of paperwork and Adam’s empty desk. “I’m not having the reception at the pub.”

“It would be cheaper.” Aaron mutters half-heartedly, head nearly touching the desk as he works on another document.

“Funny.” Robert screws up one of Nicola’s stupid post-it notes and throws it at Aaron’s head. He gets a brief _look_ when it hits his forehead, but nothing else. “Like either of us need to worry about that.”

He doesn’t get a response, but he didn’t expect one. He goes back to his own files, but keeps thinking on it.

“I’m assuming you’re not bothered about a church wedding.” He gets a snort. “So we could get married and have the reception in the same place.”

It’s quiet for a while, lost in though and paperwork alike, but Aaron eventually speaks up, tone a little firm.

“I don’t want a fuss, Robert.” He reminds him. Robert looks up at him, but he’s still filling out forms as he speaks, a small frown on his face. “Nothing big, and nothing fancy.”

“Hate to break it to you Aaron, but if you want your family there it’s going to be big regardless.” Robert scoffs, before lifting his head and giving a smile that’s half teasing, half excitement. “Unless you _don’t_ want them there. We could run off to Vegas, just the two of us, have Elvis marry us in 10 minutes flat.”

Aaron finally smiles at him, tired eyes squinted but wonderfully soft. “Like you would ever do that.”

“I might,” he faux defends; what he doesn’t add is _‘if you wanted too’_. Besides, he knows it’s not Aaron’s style either… if he were to put it mildly. “But we wouldn’t have to do Vegas, if you wanted it just the two of us-”

“No.” Aaron says calmly. “I want them there. You do too.”

Robert does. Not necessarily Aaron’s family, he thinks as he watched Aaron go back to work, but definitely his own. He wants Vic and Diane to be there to watch him finally get it right, finally be officially happy. Doug he supposes will have to tag along, though he doesn’t care either way for him, but Andy… Andy he does want there, despite everything.

If their lives had been simpler, he’d want him there as much as he wants Vic and Diane, he’d absolutely be stood beside him as his best man. But there are so many things said and unsaid between them, wrongs done, and pain caused, and there’s still a few months for them to put things right, for them to be stood side-by-side again for one of the most important days of Robert’s life, but there’s also plenty of time for things to worsen; there always is.

As it stands, Robert will invite him. Anything else, and whether Andy will accept, will be figured out with time.

Their conversation ends there, and Robert doesn’t ask anything else again, just thinks and works quietly until Adam comes back and disturbs the peace.

But when they’re lying in bed that night, he asks again; mostly because it’s been a pleasant, calm evening and he reckons he can get away with pestering.

“You don’t have any idea about where we could get married? Nothing you particularly want?”

“No.” Aaron mumbles, pressing further into Robert’s side, head resting on his chest and arms wrapped loosely around his waist. He hums as Robert's long arm moves to trail his fingers along the dip of Aaron’s lower back before twisting to look up at Robert with sleepy eyes. “What about you? It’s your wedding too.”

It’s stupid, the way Robert’s heart jumps, but it’s the most engaged Aaron’s been during wedding talk, and he smiles down at him, would even kiss him for even asking if they weren’t both so lethargic.

“I dunno.” He answers easily. “I guess I’d be happy with anything. Outdoors, indoors, beach, hotel, abroad. Just so long as you’re there.”

“Gross.” Aaron grumbles, and Robert laughs because he can see the tiny upturn of his lips, and he presses a quick kiss to Robert’s chest as he settles again.

They’re quiet for a while, Robert well and truly lost in thought, trying to picture somewhere Aaron in a wedding suit looks in place, and he assumes Aaron’s asleep, until he speaks quietly.

“What about Oakwood?”

Robert instantly recognises the name.

“Really? I mean, yeah, I’d love it, but a four star hotel is something that would usually be classified as fancy. I didn’t think you wanted that.”

“Well,” Aaron starts, his body shifting but he’s not looking at him. “It’s not, like, crazy fancy, and having the Dingle clan will lower the tone significantly.” Robert chuckles. “Besides, it wasn’t too in your face. It’s a nice place.”

“Yeah,” Robert whispers, lost in memories. “It was.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Aaron speaks again.

“It’s where we first spent the night together.”

“Aaron Dingle,” Robert beams, squishing Aaron into his side. “You sappy romantic, you.”

“Shuddup.” He huffs, but he doesn’t complain about the tight press of their bodies. “I was just saying.”

“You can’t fool me, _sweetheart_.” He half expects Aaron to lash out at the pet-name Robert so very rarely uses, but all he gets is a disgruntled groan. “I know you better than that.” He whispers into his soft hair.

His chest is on fire, warm and bubbling, and he loves this man so much, the gooey soft and jagged hard of him. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time – he’d been ridiculously excited about spending the whole night together, and the morning after was unlike anything he’d expected or experienced before, hungry hands and lips leading them into something soft, slow, and intense for the first time – but hindsight - three words spilled as a last resort - told him that night would’ve meant a lot to Aaron too.

But to think Aaron still looks back on it, still thinks of it and cherishes it, that he would offer that up as a reason to get married there… Robert knows him better than anyone, knows how sentimental he can really be, but it still thrills him, melts him when he reveals that side of him.

That someone -  _Aaron_ – loves him as much as he loves them.

“It’ll mean there’ll be some fuss. We’d have to go a bit posh.” He warns instead of gushing, because now that Aaron’s said it, there’s no way Robert will let them get married anywhere else.

Aaron shrugs.

“I can deal with a bit, all weddings have it I guess. Besides,” he sighs, all tired and snuggling into Robert’s warm body. “You can talk ‘em round.”

“I can.” He agrees quietly, smiling as he brushes a hand through Aaron’s hair. “I will.”

Aaron hums, already half asleep. Robert hugs him one last time and whispers,

“I can’t wait.”

***

Robert calls them the next morning.

They said they could fit them late September at the earliest.

Robert finds it pretty funny that they think they have any say in the matter.

August 29th is set, and Robert couldn’t be happier.

***

He carries their drinks over to the booth Aaron sits in, frowning and thumbing at his phone.

Vic sits at the back of the pub, wedding planner open and half strewn across the table. She’s discussing something with Charity – of all people – but she doesn’t bother making her way over to their seats; she’s learnt better by now.

Aaron gives him a distracted nod of thanks as he places the pint in front of him and sits opposite. They both take a sip before Robert glances at his sister and opens his mouth.

“She’s surprisingly into this.”

Aaron shrugs.

“Good thing too, really. Neither of us have a clue. Or really care.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Aaron grumbles, frowning further.

It’s true that neither of them are really cut out for wedding planning – Robert wants to marry him more than anything, but the intricacies and details are white noise to him, never mind Aaron.

But whilst she’s been an enormous help, her dedication gets grating at times, and to say that Aaron hasn’t been a fan of her constant questions and impromptu meetings is such an understatement it’s practically an insult.

He and Vic have clashed a couple of times, Aaron and Robert have had their own arguments about the day (Robert has been told weddings are always stressful; he doesn’t remember he and Chrissie having problems organising theirs, but then he was busy half-fighting with Lawrence the first time, and _somewhat_ preoccupied with Aaron the second time around), but they’ve called a frosty truce, and Vic's stopped asking Aaron anything.

He seems happy with that.

Robert doesn’t mind, most of the time.

“She can’t do everything.” He starts.

“She’s sure as shit trying.” Aaron huffs, and it’s infuriating that he’s not looking at him. He wants to snap that she wouldn’t have to act like this if Aaron put more effort in, if he _cared_ more.

But he bites his tongue, because Aaron was never the type to get excited about weddings, and Robert has always known that. It had no affect on how much Robert wants to marry him.

(It just makes him uncomfortable sometimes, because in Robert’s experience, a lack of enthusiasm for the wedding indicates a lack of enthusiasm for the relationship.)

“Still, there’s some things she can’t decide for us.”

Aaron heaves a sigh and finally puts his phone down.

“Really? ‘Cause she’s sorted everything else. Probably made it into a right show by now.”

“I’ve made sure she’s kept it simple.” Robert assures begrudgingly.

“So? Can’t you discuss whatever it is with her? I’m sick of talking about it. I just want one day withou-”

“Yeah, I know.” Robert grunts, trying to keep his tone down. “But I’m not marrying my sister, Aaron. We have to make some decisions ourselves, and fairly soon, like, preferably _before_ the wedding.”

“Like what?” Aaron scoffs.

There’s a beat of silence before Robert shrugs.

“Are we having a first dance?”

There’s another stretch of silence as they watch each other.

Aaron breaks it this time, with a derisive, almost pained voice and a turn of his head, “Jesus.”

“It’s a pretty standard question, Aa-”

“I’m not having this conversation with you, Robert.” He hisses, blue eyes sharp and full of warning.

Robert frowns and finally snaps.

“You don’t have to marry me, y’know? No one’s forcing you too.”

“What?” He asks with a  perplexed frown.

“You act like this is a chore.” Robert coughs as he realises his frustration was getting the best of him and raising his voice. He casts a quick look around the pub to see if it caught anyone’s attention – and notices Aaron doesn’t – but no one’s looking their way, so he continues, purposefully quiet. “We don’t have to be doing this if you don’t want to.”

“You think I’d put up with any of this if I didn’t want to marry you?” Aaron almost growls, and it does nothing to reassure Robert.

“Well, we don’t-”

“I don’t care about flowers, Robert.” Aaron interrupts with a scowl, his eyes focused unwavering on Robert. “I don’t care if there’s a buffet, or a truck, or seven fricking courses. I don’t care if we stand next to a fireplace, or a window. I don’t ever want to care about seat covers. All I care about is you and me. That’s it. I’m sorry if I’ve misunderstood the actual purpose of marriage and got my priorities wrong.”

His face is hard as stone as he drinks deep from his pint, eyes now firmly away.

Despite the fact this could probably be classified as a fight, tension seeps from Robert’s body, and he slowly starts to slouch into his seat. It’s quiet for a long while, even though Robert feels like he should say something; there are plenty of words on the tips of his tongue, _‘You’re right’_ , _‘I’m sorry’_ , _‘but couldn’t you try?’_ , _‘I love you’_ , but none of them come.

“We’re not having a first dance.” Aaron grumbles defiantly, finally looking at him again.

“Ok.” Robert could probably have figured that one out by himself; it’s a rare and wonderful thing to see Aaron dance – Robert’s pretty sure he’s the only person in the world to see him do it sober – and Robert has zero rhythm. Still, it felt important to decide together.

“Is there anything else?” Aaron asks with a gruff voice, but he’s more relaxed, and his eyes glance at him with softness.

“Speeches,” Robert replies automatically. “Cake.” He pauses. “Actual vows.”

“Ok.” Aaron replies, taking a sip of his beer before smirking a little at him. “Cake, really? That not something your chef sister couldn’t take care of?”

“Well, unless you want plastic grooms on-”

“We’ll sort the cake.” Robert smiles, breathes a laugh at how Aaron’s grimace melts into a small smile just for him, and he rises up from his seat, just a little to lean over the table and peck his lips, Aaron titling his head to meet him.

***

Andy will come to the wedding, but Robert didn’t ask anything more of him. There’s just too much between them, and Robert remembers how Andy had let Aaron go to prison for his awful plan, and there’s no way he’s sharing their alter… fireplace. Window?

Besides, they only need one best man, and Adam's got that covered. Well and truly. For the first time, Robert can see how he and Vic are a good match.

Still, as the day draws nearer, he finds himself thinking of the past; Andy an awful pressure beside him as Chrissie walked down the aisle; him standing with Andy at his first wedding despite how much it hurt; being best man for his dad when he married Diane.

Waiting for her outside the church, watching Louise, Vic, and Paul walk towards them, laughing at Rodney’s expense, _“I don’t know who I feel sorry for!”_

Robert doesn’t really talk about Jack, even after all this time. A conversation or two with Diane or Vic; the briefest of mentions with Andy; the odd anecdote here and there. But he doesn’t really talk about him.

He had a fairly big discussion about him with Aaron once, a few months into their relationship. It had helped; Aaron had been steady as a rock as Robert’s anger and grief and insecurities came rushing like waves. He’d held him and soothed him with honesty and love, and Robert finally put some things to rest.

It was a conversation Robert needed to say and Aaron had needed to hear, but it hadn’t been a miraculous cure for all the wounds that had festered over the years.

Andy had found his way back to farming, his children an almost permanent fixture in his rustic kitchen, and Robert lived in a spacious flat with his boyfriend and his tearaway sister. He owns three successful businesses, two flash cars, and spends his days either at a computer or schmoozing with people his dad wouldn’t have stopped a speeding car for.

Jack had spent so long painting a picture of the life Robert would have, _should_ have, and none of it was part of the life he had now.

Since Robert came back here, they – Diane, Vic, Andy – have always said Jack would be proud of him. He used to resent those words, feel sick to his stomach and turn away from them.

He’s learnt to listen to them now, but he thinks Jack just would’ve been content to see him happy.

Pride wouldn’t have come into it.

Thinking of his family, of the past, has Robert stop by the graveyard after a lunch meeting one day. The summer sun bounces off the marble headstones unforgivingly and warms the deep blue of his jacket uncomfortably, but at least there’s a slight breeze.

For only the fifth time in his life, Robert stops in front of his father’s grave. He daren’t touch the mottled grey stone, but his eyes trace over the black lettering several times.

After a moment, he sits.

Butt and feet to the dusty ground, his suit stretches awkwardly as he wraps his arms around his knees and faces his father feeling like a child, as always.

He doesn’t say anything, just sits and thinks. He hardly ever says anything to his father’s grave – or him at all – sees no point in it. There was just the one time, that cold and awful night where he sat and cried, _‘I love him, I love him, I love him’_.

There’s a lot that should’ve been said before Jack died, plenty that Robert wishes could have been said afterwards, but he keeps most of it to himself.

Today he’s silent, and just wishes his dad could be there for the wedding, to see how happy Aaron makes him, and how happy he makes Aaron.

No matter what anyone says, none of them know how thrilled Jack would’ve been about the event, about Robert marrying a man, and a Dingle one no less. But  Robert knows _he_ wants him there, even if he can’t be. He wants something of him there, wants to make him just a little happy, wants to have something of that life Robert never wanted but Jack dreamed of. He wants to be Jack Sugden’s son, be part of his family again on the day he creates his own.

Aaron and Liv are by the sink when he gets home.

“I know what you’re doing,” Aaron snarks, a familiar sibling tone in this house. “You think taking two hours to wash-up and washing all the glasses in greasy water means we’ll stop asking you to do it. Well tough shit, kid. All you’re doing is wasting two hours of your busy social life by assuring you wash all the same things the next day.”

“I don’t see why I even have to do it in the first place! I’m 18, not 8.”

“So you keep telling me, yet here I am, still cleaning up your messes and making sure you get up in the morning.”

Robert leans against the doorway as he watches them bicker again. Before Liv can retort though, Aaron snatches the sponge from her hands and shoos her away.

“Enough. If I leave this to you, we’ll never get dinner. Just go… do whatever it is you do all day and be ready to do it all tomorrow too – Robert and I are eating at the pub, so feel free to take as long as you like.”

Liv makes a rude gesture behind his back and mutters a _‘whatever’_ as she makes her way to the door. She gives Robert the finger, and he ruffles her hair as she passes.

“You’ve had a fairly average day I see.” Robert offers as he walks in and takes Liv’s place, leaning back against the counter as Aaron starts washing up beside him.

“Something like that.” He sighs, giving Robert a tired smile. “Got a possible new contract for the Skipdale site you might want to look over. How about you? How’d the meeting go?”

“Pretty well,” Robert shrugs, watching Aaron’s hands move in the soapy water. “All signed and sealed within a couple of hours.”

“Pretty average day for you too, then.” He can hear the smirk in Aaron’s voice, but he’s watching him place a plate in the rack, little soap bubbles gliding down his hand and over his ring.

“I think I’ve changed my mind.”

Aaron freezes. Hands stock still in mid-air. Robert can’t stop looking at the ring.

He’s so focused on it that it takes him a while to notice Aaron’s stillness, the way he’s looking at him with wide eyes and a carefully closed mouth. The realisation makes him start.

“Not about marrying you!” He hastily says, his own eyes wide and panicked, hands stretched out to touch and placate. “Definitely want to marry you, always will.”

Aaron’s shoulders relax and an imperceptible sigh is released as he drops the sponge in the water and half-heartedly dries his hands, turning a little to face Robert as he leans his hip against the counter.

“What about then?” He asks, faux indifference back in place.

Robert looks at him for a long moment, eyes tracing over his face, his focused eyes and soft mouth, the way his jaw clenches as time passes.

“The wedding.” Aaron doesn’t react, has learnt to wait for Robert to get to the point. It takes him a while, still thinking on the idea, still uncertain as to how Aaron would feel at the very suggestion. Eventually he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes briefly before meeting Aaron head on again. “I think I want to get married in the church.”

Aaron’s thick eyebrows rise, but he doesn’t say anything. Robert doesn’t either and he takes the hint.

“Oh.” Is all he has to offer at first. “I didn’t think… you’re not religious, so…“

“It’s not about that,” Robert mutters, beginning to feel self-conscious. “It’s just this church-“

“You mean the village one?” He’s still surprised until a small frown appears; it’s light and confused, but Robert had expected it. “The one you married Chrissie in?”

“I know,” Robert sighs. “But that was never the plan; getting married , _living_ anywhere near here. This is different.”

He doesn’t offer anything else, and after a beat Aaron sighs and runs a hand down Robert’s side.

“Do you want to sit down and talk about it?”

“What’s for dinner?”

Aaron rises a single eyebrow. Goes with the shift in conversation.

“Dunno yet. Curry maybe, unless you want to cook?”

“I’ll help.” Robert says, dipping his hands into the water, forcing Aaron to move over, but softly enough that their hips remain touching.

He feels Aaron watch him for a bit before he stretches over him to grab the chopping board eventually drained, and moves over just enough to grab some onions and start on dinner.

They remain quiet for a while, comfortable in each other’s company and the routine noise of knife on board and sponge on plate.

Being with Aaron is always so soothing.

“My dad got married in that church, twice. Maybe three times, I’m not sure.” He rinses the glass before putting it to dry. He picks up a plate.

“Three?” Aaron questions quietly, half an onion already done.

“Yeah. Diane, Mum, and…” he pauses, frowning at the suds covering his hands. “Well, I guess she was technically my mother-“

“It’s ok,” Aaron quickly says, and Robert  didn’t realise he’d stopped breathing until he took a gulp of air from Aaron’s words. “I didn’t know that.” He offers tentatively. Robert shrugs.

“He never talked about a wedding,” Robert says, shifting topics again, but Aaron’s used to it, keeps up with him and lets him say want he wants. “But he’d planned my entire life out. Wanted me to take over the farm, build my own family there, raise kids that would do the same. Be the pillar of village life. I never wanted that.”

Aaron stays quiet, stays routine with his chopping. Robert runs the sponge over the same plate again and again.

“He never listened.” He whispers, mind far into the past. “I told him, time and again what I liked, what I wanted to do, and I used to think he cared; his eyes would glaze over when I started talking about computers and stuff, but I thought he wanted to hear about what I was interested in. Course he wasn’t. Someone would mention the farm or ask what I was planning on studying, and Dad would say I was taking over like it was final. Like I hadn’t told him anything at all. Like he hadn’t listened. Like it didn’t matter what I wanted.”

He pauses, mind going over things faster than even he can keep up with.

“I never wanted that. Any of that.” His hand finally stops and he casts a quick look to Aaron before slowly lowering his hands, resting them on the sink; plate and sponge still in grip. “But I wanted to make him proud, make him happy the way…” _Andy did_ “The way he’d look when he laid my entire life out for himself. And I’ve done none of it.”

“He would be happy.” Aaron insists quietly, always careful when talking about Robert’s family. And it doesn’t escape Robert’s notice that he doesn’t say ‘proud’, because Aaron knows him and the Jack Robert knew better than anyone. It spread warmth through his chest. “If he could see you now, what you’ve accomplished, you’re family, how happy you are-”

“I know.” Robert smiles at him, a touch of sadness to his barely lifted lips. “But I still… if I could tick just one of those boxes…”

“I get it.” Aaron offers, his own small smile directed at Robert before he goes back to chopping onions.

Robert just watches him for a moment.

“And it’s not a bad one to tick, is it? Doesn’t really affect anything else. And it’s the village church, the one I grew up with. Would probably be quite nice.”

He looks up at Aaron’s tilted face, watching his own hands chop-chop-chop. He’s quiet, but he doesn’t looked bothered by the conversation either way.

Robert place the plate back in water before facing him, arms crossing and pressed tight to his body.

“Would you mind? If you did get married there?”

“It’s a bit short notice, don’t you think?”

“I could work it out. You know that.”

Aaron smiles at him, and scrapes the final cubes of onion to the side of the board. Robert waits him out.

“It would be weird.” He says, finally. “I can still remember what you looked like marrying Chrissie.” Robert goes to apologise, but something else comes to the forefront of his mind.

“It’s where Jackson’s funeral was.” He whispers; they never have and never will talk about Jackson much, either in spite-of or because Robert knows how much he meant to Aaron.

His body stiffens instantly, but it’s impulse, and Robert’s not worried.

“But I didn’t go,” he says after a moment. “So I don’t have memories of it. It wouldn’t affect the day, wouldn’t make me think of things I’d rather not…”

“Ok,” Roberts offers, but Aaron cuts him off before he can think of what to say next.

“I wouldn’t mind, if you wanted to get married in the church.” He looks at Robert, leaning his hip against the counter. “If it’s important to you, then we can get married there.”

“But you don’t want to?”

Aaron rolls his eyes before turning back to the counter and grabbing a carrot.

“I’m pretty sure we’ve had this conversation, y’know, way back when you first started bugging me about things? I don’t care.”

“But-”

“Robert.” Aaron somehow snaps softly, in that way only he can. “I’d tell you if I had a problem with it, you know I would. So stop creating drama where there isn’t any.”

He keeps his mouth shut, but he’s not convinced. Then again, he’s not sure if he’s picking holes and arguments because Aaron wouldn’t want it, or because _he_ doesn’t.

He sighs and goes back to washing the forgotten plate. It’s quiet again; Robert still thinking on the idea, about how he’d feel getting married in that church again, trying to picture himself waiting for Aaron or Aaron waiting for him.

Aaron’s started peeling potatoes by the time he rises his voice and knocks Robert out of his daydreaming.

“If we get married in the church, we may as well have the reception in the pub.” He mumbles offhandedly. Robert almost throws the sponge down into the sink.

“No!” He whines, his entire body aching with the very thought.

“C’mon, Rob. It’s not a problem. In fact, it’s the opposite. It’s easy, cheap, familiar-”

“I don’t want to celebrate our wedding in the pub! I want to go to Oakwood. It’s perfect, it means something. You said-”

“I know, but dragging everyone all the way out there just to get drunk; it doesn’t make sense. And it’s a lot of effort and money for a party.”

Robert closes his eyes with a sigh, trying to fight his frown.

“The money doesn’t matter, you know that.”

“And it’s not really us, is it?” Aaron continues, huffing his own sigh as his eyes cast over Robert. “Well, not me anyway.” And red flags go up in Robert’s mind.

“Aaron-”

“Seating arrangements, and a wall of windows leading to a terrace...it’s not exactly Dingle suitable.”

“You belonged there,” Robert insists, facing Aaron fully and stroking his arm, shoulder, “We belonged there, the first time we went. Just us. I know you remember how that felt. Walking in together.”

“I know.” Aaron offers softly with a tiny smile, “But if we’re cancelling the ceremony, then we could cancel the rest of it-”

“But-”

“And pick somewhere closer,” Aaron bulldozes on. “Doesn’t have to be the pub, if you’re so set against it. But somewhere else, nearby. Something less fancy.” He says with a wry smile, but Robert doesn’t want to. He’s wanted Oakwood from the moment Aaron suggested it. “Just think about it.” Aaron says, pecking a quick and awkward kiss to Robert’s hand still clutching at his shoulder and going back to his peeling.

***

Robert doesn’t sleep that night. Not for a long time.

He lies on his back staring at the ceiling, hand twisted uncomfortably so his thumb can stroke lightly at Aaron’s back facing him.

He’s right, of course. Aaron has a way of being right these days. It makes no sense for them to have the reception so far away, and the others are bound to question and complain, even if they’d still all go for Aaron’s sake regardless.

But he wants it there. It’s where he’s pictured everything for the last few months, what he’s used as a backdrop to make all the other decisions. He can see it. He can see him and, more importantly, Aaron standing in their reception room, dressed to the fucking nines, and smiling so wide. He can _see_ it, when once it was impossible to picture Aaron in anything but his court suit and green-screened into various places.

He thinks about the church. Can see Aaron there too, but he doesn’t look right. Doesn’t look as happy, doesn’t look as comfortable. It doesn’t feel as comfortable. He can almost picture it to a tee; stood by the alter, looking at Aaron beside him, the flowers over flowing, the light coming through the windows, the shuffling of restless feet and creaking of the pews. It’s a bit claustrophobic.

It’s familiar, but it’s stuffy.

It’s nice, and pretty, but too much. They could cut down on the flowers, but then what’s left? Cold white stone and refurbished wood.

It’s easy to see, he can run through it minute by minute, word by word.

It could be anyone’s wedding.

It _was_ his wedding.

Maybe that’s where the pressing feeling’s coming from; he’s remembering what was instead of picturing what could be, and is just replacing Chrissie for Aaron. So he squeezes his eyes closed tight, and really thinks.

Can he name one, just one, thing he likes or wants from a church wedding that isn’t his father’s hypothetical approval? He doesn’t even know if that’s what his dad would want.

He’s clutching at straws.

Falling back into old habits.

_He’d be happy_.

Jack’d be happy. Robert believes that now, and it’s enough. It has to be. It is. It _is._

Of all the things Jack would want for him, want _from_ him, the last thing he’d probably change is where the damn wedding was held. Church, hotel, registry; it wouldn’t have mattered to Jack, not really. But it matters to Robert, and it could matter to Aaron.

He rolls onto his side and looks at Aaron, moves his hand to stroke lightly at the hair on the nape of his neck. He honestly can’t pinpoint precisely when he fell in love with him, thinks there isn’t one moment but continuous stream that built and built, but was so steady he hardly noticed.

If he had to place a bet, Christmas day - Andy and Katie’s wedding of all times - was probably when it started.

But the first night away together, their first hotel trip was something else, something special. He can still remember the excitement he’d felt all that day, the anticipation of having Aaron all to himself, all night. All the scenarios he’d run through during his meeting, whilst driving, how’d they’d go slow, how he’d take his time in unravelling Aaron, ravenous at the thought of how Aaron would flush and curse and sweat and _writhe_ as Robert took him to the edge again and again.

It’d been better than anything he’d ever fantasised.

And for all the excitement, the restless hunger, there’d been pride too, in showing off to Aaron, just a little. Aaron was so hard to crack, he hardly ever rose to the bait, never indulged Robert in his bragging, but that was always half the appeal. The hotel was hardly the fanciest; at the time Robert didn’t see the point in splashing out that much, and it was the best available that was far enough for peace of mind, but close enough that no precious time was wasted on driving.

And honestly, he’d been wary of making Aaron uncomfortable or, more likely – he thought at the time – standoffish.

But it had been nice. Nice enough to get a raised eyebrow and glance around from Aaron; nice enough for Robert to smirk at him as he swaggered in with an all-knowing ‘well?’.

They’d stood tall in that lobby, all smiles and heated looks as the receptionist took her sweet time in checking them in.

Robert hadn’t felt that kind of thrill in a long time, and he still remembers it so vividly.

He smiles as he shifts closer, wrapping an arm gently around Aaron’s waist and slowly pulling himself flush.

“I love you.” He whispers against his hair, closing his eyes and ready to try and sleep.

“I noticed,” he hears instead, grumbled and words bleeding into each other with tiredness. He can’t help smiling, tightening his arm around Aaron  with an apology.

“Didn’t mean to wake you.”

He gets a solitary grunt in response, though Aaron’s arm comes up to rest along his.

They fall back into silence, Aaron’s breathing deep and slow though not yet sleeping, and Robert figures now’s a good as time as any since they’re both awake.

“I don’t want to get married in the church,” he says quietly, wary of just how close to sleep Aaron is. “Wanna stick to plan A.”

There’s something of an orchestra of grunts and groans as Aaron fights sleep and consciousness enough to turn on to his back and blink at Robert several times in attempt to open his eyes; he fails every time.

“It’s too late to be discussing this,” he manages to mumble out.

“There is no discussion. I want to get married at Oakwood.” He places a soft kiss on Aaron’s lips, which inspires just enough strength for him to keep one eye open.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“’Cause you know I wouldn’t mind-”

“I know.” He whispers, settling in closer to his fiancé, still hovering slightly over him and brushing a hand over his soft hair. “I’m sure. Just had a bit of wobble, that’s all. My version of cold feet.” He says with a smile, and Aaron returns it, soft in the way that only happens when he’s half-asleep and open.

He raises a hand that barely cups Robert’s neck before it’s stroking reverently down his skin and falling back to the sheets; Robert’s not sure what his intention was, but he breathes a laugh at the way it tickles.

“Then go back to sleep.” Aaron says, still smiling, though blinking slower, and Roberts forgoes correcting him, telling him he’s not slept at all, to shuffle back to lying down on his side. Before he can move to rest his head on Aaron’s shoulder though, he too rolls on to his side – with some effort – and wraps his arms around Robert’s waist best he can, shifting ‘til their legs are tangled and his forehead’s pressed to his chest.

Robert can adjust to that.

It’s mere seconds before Aaron’s breath goes slow again, and Robert tries to match it, eager to make most of the scant couple of hours before their alarms go off. He’s just on the cusp, thinks Aaron’s well over edge, when Aaron sleepily whispers,

“You’re still his son. You’ll always be his son.”

Robert feels, stupidly and immediately, choked up, body shot back into wakefulness like he’s been punched in the chest. He blinks a few times, eyes already sore, before closing them lightly and trying to steady his breathing. Aaron’s still and content, possibly already asleep again, and Robert can do nothing but bury his face into the top of his head and hold him tight.

***

He remembers his last wedding day vividly.

He doesn’t like thinking about it – for so, so many reasons – and thankfully, over the last few years, he hasn’t.

But as his second draws nearer, as Victoria lists flowers and asks about playlists, little snippets come back. Most are gone in a second, others linger, and some are so clear it’s like he’s reliving the moment.

And he takes note of the mistakes.

Her remembers walking in on Chrissie looking at the jewellery she’d ordered for the big day, remembers the instinctual punch of _‘bad’_ in his gut and spun away from the sparkles and her dreamy smile, claiming to be superstitious when really it’s the type of tradition that _had_ been ingrained in him; the sweet and sentimental that came from his gran and through his dad with harsher warnings.

When Vic suggests a couple of weeks before, that Robert stays at hers the night before the wedding – _“You know it’s bad luck”_ – it’s like he’s sitting outside the church again, windswept and sick and unable to feel the biting cold of a February morning.

He wasn’t ready to go in, wasn’t sure he was able to go through with it at all. He stared into space, seeing Katie’s lifeless eyes, hearing the faintest murmurs of Aaron’s declaration, and he just needed to see her. Seeing her would remind him why he was there in the first place; remind him what he would lose if he ran and ran and never looked back.

And then she’d arrived, and he had to straighten, to check what expression he was wearing, whether the guilt was visibly weighing on his shoulders, double check that the lie already on the tip of his tongue was suitable.

She met his eyes as she stepped out of the car, and he could breathe.

She had looked beautiful.

She had looked beautiful, and Andy had been heartbroken. Andy had tried to kill himself, Aaron was on the edge, he had _fallen in love with Aaron_ , and he had hurt himself, and Donny turned up, and Ross couldn’t keep his mouth shut, and _she wasn’t enough, wasn’t him_ , but then everything he had, everything he had worked for was tied to her and suddenly it felt like he was trapped and Paddy wouldn’t let it lie, wouldn’t let Robert be happy _for once_ , and Aaron…

Robert was raised on superstition, but more than that, he’s worked so hard to learn from past mistakes.

Aaron and he have been through so much, have had the worst thrown at them; they don’t need to add more bad luck to the hand they’ve got.

He scoffs at her, but she’s his sister so she’s as tied as he is to their family’s expectations – not enough to stop her from eloping, but with her stubborn and eager help planning his wedding, he thinks she’s reliving through him – and is thankfully persistent enough that Robert doesn’t look a fool for giving in and settling his own agitated nerves.

“You’re kidding,” Aaron scowls, when Robert tells him with put on derision. “That’s such a stupid… it’s a gay wedding, kinda means we don’t have to follow those stupid rules.”

Robert would usually agree, but it’s just this one thing…

“I know, Aaron,” he sighs, slumping onto the arm of the sofa. “But she won’t let it go. What am I supposed to do?”

Aaron stares at him for a long time, frowning as his eyes jump from both of Robert’s, briefly gazing over the rest of his face, and then something stops, some kind of tension or, or something else because he’s still frowning, but there’s something soft about him as he strides forward and stands in front of him.

Robert remains still, mind whirling, trying to figure out what’s going on, what Aaron’s thinking, and then his hands rise and gently hold Robert’s face, his thumbs stroking softly over his cheeks.

“You sentimental idiot.” He grumbles, and Robert sighs, relaxing into his hands and looking up at him with guilty and – he’s quite certain – pathetic eyes.

“We don’t need any more bad luck, Aaron.” He admits quietly, vulnerable.

Aaron opens his mouth to say something but seems to think better of it, sighing heavily and forcing his frown to drop. Instead, he leans down and presses a kiss to Robert’s lips, lingering as his hands slide down to hold Robert’s neck, thumbs gliding over his jaw.

Robert holds him lightly at the waist, keeping him close even as he draws back.

“Fine,” he says firmly, thumbs still stroking back and forth on his skin. “But just so you know, I was planning on waking you up with a blowjob.”

Robert’s eyes widen and he smirks a little as he tugs at Aaron’s waist.

“Well, on second thought-“

“Forget it,” Aaron interrupts. “If we don’t do this and something goes wrong, you’ll blame me and use it in every argument we have for years.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Yes, you would. You won’t be able to help yourself.” Robert wants to argue, but knows deep down he can’t. Aaron drops down again to give a quick peck before shrugging. “Your loss though.”

“Don’t I know it.” Robert whispers, sliding into flirtation with the same ease he always has, and he wants to change his mind, wants to wake up on his wedding day next to Aaron, he wants to spend the morning making slow and easy love – and maybe hard and rough afterwards, just to savour their last hours of being young and free, to know that when they’re exchanging vows in front of everyone they know, they’ll still be able to feel each other so acutely – but he can’t risk it, won’t knowingly put them in harm’s way again. “Think about the wedding night, though.” He breathes, straining upwards and pulling Aaron closer. “After spending an entire night apart, when we want each other the most…”

“And I’ll be wearing a waistcoat,” Aaron adds cheekily.

“And you’ll be wearing a waistcoat,” Robert repeats with a hungry smirk. “Christ, I can’t wait.”

“Luckily, you don’t have to. Yet.” Aaron whispers against his lips, and then they’re kissing deep and hungry, pulling each other closer before Robert yanks at Aaron’s jumper, breaking apart for him to take it off, before they crash back together, Aaron’s hands dropping to Robert’s jeans.

***

They’ve been in the kitchen for a while; Aaron leisurely clearing up from lunch and Robert perched at the island with a coffee and a couple of work papers spread out before him. It’s nothing important, but he’s been thinking about them recently and figured he’d have a look over them whilst he’s got time.

It’s quiet and familiar with just the two of them in the house. The calm before the storm, Robert supposes some would call it. The wedding is in less than 2 weeks, everything arranged and confirmed, and apart from a catering hiccup that Vic jumped on straight away and is no doubt sorting right this moment, there’s nothing left to do except pick up the suits and turn up on the day.

It’ll probably all come crashing down around their ears next week because it’s sod’s law and it’s _them_ , but everything’s calm and steady for now, and no one’s taking that for granted.

“I’ve been thinking,” Aaron says as he drifts over; Robert’s still looking at his papers, but he catches the way Aaron half-heartedly wipes the counter in his peripheral.

“Dangerous.” He mutters, taking a sip of coffee.

“Funny.” He looks at Aaron then, smile stretching, and watches the sarcasm fall into something soft even as he quips back, “You wanna hear it, or do you wanna keep making lame jokes until I call the wedding off?”

“You wouldn’t.” He half-teases with a scoff, half-boasts with pure smugness.

 “You wanna bet?”

Robert hums as he looks his fiancé over, effortlessly sinking into the challenge that has very little to do with digs or jilting, but is all about pushing and pulling and at least partial nudity.

“Tempting,” he murmurs, eventually meeting Aaron’s gaze head on. “But we both know I’ll win, so we might as well cut to it.”

Aaron scoffs, but he drops it quickly. He also makes another single, distracted swipe at the counter which kills the building tension of teasing possibility instantly; he doesn’t seem nervous to Robert, but maybe it’s more serious than Robert had thought it would be.

“There’s still something we have to decide on for the wedding.”

That has Robert perking up, back straight and mind whirling.

They’ve got the rings (Adam will be given them an hour before the ceremony and no sooner), ordered the cake of Robert’s dreams, the hotel’s arranging the minor decorations themselves, and they’re not saying their own vows. He cocks an eyebrow, all ears.

“Names.” Aaron offers, but it still doesn’t quite register with Robert. “We haven’t talked about changing our names or anything.”

_Oh._

Robert had forgotten about that.

Though now Aaron’s brought it up, he’s not sure _how_ he forgot. It’s a pretty big part of the whole getting married thing.

It’d crossed his mind, of course, back in the early days of their engagement, and a handful of times before, if he’s being honest, but with everything else to work out, with having to get Aaron to make decisions like trying pull teeth, it just… slipped from his mind.

(It’s a good thing one of them remembered, or it could’ve got awkward on the day.)

Though now that he’s thinking about it, maybe he’d come to assume they just… wouldn’t.

“So, I was thinking,” Aaron prompts, snapping Robert’s attention back to him.

“Yeah,” he says immediately. “Sorry, go on.” When Aaron just watches him – and what Robert can only presume is the mild freak out written across his face – he takes a deep breath and offers sheepishly. “I forgot.”

“It’s ok,” Aaron shrugs. “There’s been a lot to do.”

“Yeah, but it’s pretty key.” Aaron just shrugs again, unbothered. Robert slides to sit closer to the bar on his seat, moving his papers and cup out the way as he throws himself into the thought. “Ok, so option one; we can hyphenate our names. Sugden-Dingle, Dingle-Sugden,” he smirks up Aaron, “I’ll challenge you on Play Station for whose goes first.”

Aaron scoffs with a smile.

“Robert-”

“Or we could not change our names. It’d be nice if we had the same, but it’s not so important these days-”

“Robert-”

“I can’t,” he stops short, no longer meeting Aaron’s eyes. He’s suddenly aware that Aaron was trying to cut in, and wonders why he’s not taking his chance now. He stumbles on. “I don’t think… I can’t change to Dingle, I-”

“I don’t want you to.” Robert snaps his graze back up. Aaron smiles at him. “ _I’ve been thinking._ ” He stresses, and Robert huffs out a laugh, smiling a little apologetically as he settles back in his seat. Aaron takes a peculiar breath. “If it’s ok with you, I’d like to change my name. To Sugden.”

There’s silence, for a moment.

“Yeah?” Robert breathes, voice caught somewhere, and he’s not sure why.

“Yeah.” Aaron leaves the cloth on the island as he walks ‘round to stand beside him, all calm and sure, and Robert’s not sure if it’s him or Aaron that’s acting out of place.

“Really?”

“Yes,” Aaron laughs lightly, and _God_ does that do something to Robert’s stomach; always has and, apparently, always will. “Really. I want to have the same name, and…”

He stops himself, takes a breath as he brushes his hand down Robert’s arm, making that connection that Robert really should’ve reached out for as soon as Aaron came within touching distance.

“The thing about us Dingles,” he says with a light-hearted smirk, and Robert is already smiling. “Is that we’re always Dingles, no matter what. Even when we don’t want to be.” Robert has his own little laugh at that, catching Aaron’s dangling fingers where he’s leaning his arm against the counter. Aaron lets him.

“Don’t tell any of them, but honestly, the name doesn’t mean much to me. I wasn’t ‘Dingle’ when me mum left, I wasn’t ‘Dingle’ when I came here and they took me in, watched after me. When I needed them most, for favours, support, to be nagged at endlessly,” he can’t help smiling. “I was never ‘Dingle’, but I was never anything else… If that makes sense.”

“It does.” Robert whispers, can’t help adding, “And it’s soft.”

“Shut up.” He tugs at their twined fingers, and Robert makes a show of it hurting, when all it does is make him warm. “My point is… changing my name was important, part of the process, but it didn’t make me more of a Dingle, and marrying you – hard as you may try – won’t make me any less of one.”

Robert hums teasingly, “I can deal with that. There’s a certain charm that comes with it.”

Aaron doesn’t bite back, though his smirk says he could. Instead he sways closer, pulls Robert forward by his hand. “The Dingle name doesn’t mean much to me, but ‘Sugden’ does to you.” He lifts his free hand, runs it through Robert’s hair slow and gentle, whispering, “And it does to me too.”

Robert’s breath catches.

“Besides,” his hand drops and he bites the side of his lip, nervousness sinking into to his teasing. “Aaron Sugden doesn’t sound too bad, does it?”

“No,” Robert whispers, eyes solely on Aaron’s face, ears so focused they ring. He swallows hard. “No, it doesn’t.”

“So, if it’s ok with you, and you think-”

“Of course.” Robert says quickly, clambering from his seat a second later. “Of course it’s ok, are you daft? Of course I want this.”

He tugs Aaron into him, arms wrapping around his firm waist as Aaron rests his hands over them.

“Yeah?” He still asks, though he’s smiling. Robert can only assume his grinning like a madman.

“Yes.” He pulls him closer – Aaron’s already meeting him halfway – and kisses him excitedly, soundly as he sinks into it. It’s slow and sure and deep, and Robert sighs into it before they ease apart, foreheads resting and Aaron’s nose brushing against his. He sighs again before his lips quirk back into a smile, whispering, “Aaron Sugden.”

“Easy,” Aaron hums, his voice deep and eyes peering up at him with mischief. “Not married yet.” Robert hums right back, all false-question and flirtatious daring as he goes back in for another kiss, somewhat unsuccessfully with the way he can’t stop smiling. “It comes with a price though,” Aaron continues, though there’s a rasp and a want marring his voice. “Don’t for one second think you’re not drinking from that welly.”

“What?” He straightens immediately with a frown, though his arms stay firmly in place. “But I’m not becoming a Dingle.”

“But you’re marrying into my family as much as I’m marrying into yours.” He replies calmly.

“There is no way-”

“Marriage is all about compromises, Robert.”

“Shut up,” he laughs, pinching at Aaron’s waist to make him squirm.

“I’m serious,” and Robert thinks he might be, despite the way he’s laughing and the quipping lilt to his voice. “This is the price you pay for marrying a Dingle.”

“Hmm,” there’s no helping the fond and satisfied smile as he pulls them together again. “It’s worth it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Feedback and advice would be greatly appreciated!


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